


Not in My Virtue

by OneEightActual



Category: Frozen (2013)
Genre: Action, Alternate Universe - Dark, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Police, Drama, F/F, F/M, Police Brutality, Racial Tension, Sexual Assault, Vigilantism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-27
Updated: 2015-08-21
Packaged: 2018-03-29 03:21:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 7
Words: 14,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3880321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OneEightActual/pseuds/OneEightActual
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Constable Elsa Arendelle is subject to a horrific attack while on patrol leaving her partner Rapunzel dead, and her in hospital. In spite of her doctors' warnings, she returns to work weeks later to find her estranged sister Anna as her new partner. A rift is forming between the community the police. Tensions are reaching a boiling point, forcing Elsa to confront her uncomfortable past as she tries to protect her sister.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 2800 Hogan Road

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fanfic, and really, my first attempt at writing anything, in my opinion, substantial. I'm not too well versed in any rules or conventions in writing, so this fic might end up seeming like a mish-mash at times. It's not the best, in fact it might even be terrible, but it's a learning experience. Reviews are appreciated. Enjoy!
> 
> This work is also available on Fanfiction.net: <https://www.fanfiction.net/s/11078935>

 

  
Not in My Virtue

* * *

 

Cst. Elsa Arendelle  
Age 27  
Royal Police, 19 Division  
Arendelle City Region

It was another cold winter night. A bone-chilling -23 degrees centigrade. But Constable Elsa Arendelle didn't mind it much. Though the bulky duty belt that she wore made her back ache, and a laptop mounted to the centre console was taking up her space, she was content. It was quiet night in a quiet part of the city. Her partner, a female officer with sapphire green eyes and golden hair tied in a neat bun and drove at a comfortable pace. There was nowhere to go, and nothing to see; no urgency to what they were doing.

Elsa watched as the reflection of the late-model patrol car passed through shop windows. As the car rounded a corner, its retroreflective livery flickered under the dim glow of sodium vapour street-lamps. She hypnotised by the periodic dazzle of yellow and blue from the oblique interlocking lines that made up much of the car's livery. A small gap devoid of this pattern bore text that simply read "Police". The design gave the vehicle a pompous sense of urgency and authority. One that contrasted with that of the figure in a dark police jacket leaning on the passenger-side window who held a distant, longing gaze. A gaze that seemed to drift off into nothingness. It signified nothing.

Elsa was suddenly self-conscious.

"You still there Elsie?" asked the driver.

"Yeah, I'm here Rapunzel." replied Elsa, removed from her trance.

"You know, the Asian lady that runs the neighbourhood business association is hosting a street festival in March."

"Ms. Fa?"

"Yeah, Mulan Fa. She's hoping she could get some paid-duty officers to watch the roads."

"That's a long time away. You planning to go?"

"Yeah, sure. It's on Midland, right? Sounds like there might be some good food there."

The police car's radio crackled with activity.

"19-02, respond to possible residential break-and-enter, 2800 Hogan Road."

Rapunzel picked up the radio.

"Copy, 19-02 responding to B&E, 10-11."

Rapunzel activated the sirens. Elsa woke the laptop up from sleep. She scrolled down to their call and began reading.

"Complainant reports a suspect in olive green jacket peering through the windows of a semi-detached house. Suspect became agitated when he could not gain entry to the premises. Went into the backyard and disappeared from complainant's view. Banging noises were heard after he was out of view. End of remarks."

When they arrived, Rapunzel parked the car directly in front of the location. She unclipped the radio from the console.

"19-02, 10-12 on scene."

"Dispatch to 19-02, received, showing you 10-12."

As soon as Elsa stepped out of the car, she was greeted with a blast of cold winter air. Looking up, she noted the murky purple colour of the sky. A few dim dots of white were sprinkled across the sea of almost-grey.

"Light pollution," she noted aloud.

"The city's awake, so we're awake." said Rapunzel. "Come on, lets go."

The two policewomen began surveying the scene. The house was a relatively small house. The mailbox had a few pieces of junk mail. Slushy grey boot-marks scuffed the front door. Elsa took a peek through the window. The house was cloaked in darkness. It was impossible to make out what was going on inside.

"Hey Elsa, come take a look."

Elsa walked through a wooden gate to the backyard. She found Rapunzel examining a screen door at the back of the house. The door lead to a family room with a couch, and a television but not much more. The mesh had been cut out and the sliding glass door behind it was lying in pieces on the carpet. Dirty footprints led from the entrance to the doorway leading to the rest of the house.

"You think this is a burglary?" Elsa asked.

"Let's find out." said Rapunzel, as she stepped through the screen door and into the house. Elsa placed a hand on her shoulder and stopped her.

"Wait. Maybe we should call for backup."

Rapunzel drew her pistol. "It's a small house, we don't need backup." She stepped back into the house.

"Goddamnit, Rapunzel." Elsa hesitated for several moments before drawing her own pistol and going in after her.

Elsa stepped into the house, marking the carpet with a third set of slushy grey footprints. She raised her gun and swept the hallway as she entered it. The hallway was empty, there was little to note, besides two sets of wet footprints leading to the foyer. She could hear some footsteps above her. 'Rapunzel,' She thought. Elsa went the other way, entering the kitchen. The kitchen was well organised. A small CRT television sat on a counter by the kitchen table. A few pots and pans hung off hooks on the wall, and a drying rack held a small amount of dishes. Gun ready, Elsa made a smooth arc around the kitchen counter. The kitchen was clear. Elsa set off to find Rapunzel.

The foyer was small and had a short staircase to the second floor facing the front door. There was a rack of shoes, a coat rack, and nothing more. Rapunzel was probably upstairs. Elsa unlocked the front door, and began ascending the stairs. Every floorboard underneath the carpet of the stairs creaked as she slowly and methodically ascended. She kept her gun raised. In her training, stairs and hallways were known as fatal funnels. Their cramped space and absence of cover made them deadly to traverse. If an attacker were to strike, she would only have fractions of a second to react.

The small display on her personal radio suddenly glowed red. An officer had activated their radio's panic button. Wheezing gasps sounded over her radio. Elsa glanced at the display.
    
    
    OFCR. IN DNGR
    CORONA R.
    19-02
    

When she glanced back up, Elsa screamed.

A gunshot.

The bullet hit her like a freight train. Elsa tumbled down the stairs, banging her head on the cold tile floor below. Her gun clattered to the floor beside her. Her muscles seized and her lungs emptied of air. There was a painful crushing in her chest. Her feverish attempts at breathing were met with painful resistance. Elsa's head was pounding, and she could taste blood.

Another gunshot.

Elsa jerked as another bullet hit her. Her trousers became damp with blood. A pulsing flow of blood leached from her leg. Her attacker was advancing down the stairs. Blood flowed everywhere around her, the pool of crimson slick growing larger.

Another gunshot.

The bullet hit tile, mere inches from her head. Ceramic shrapnel left cuts across her face. Elsa curled into a ball. She would've whimpered if she could breathe.

Another gunshot.

By now she could hear the faint sirens of help less than a kilometre away, but she was certain they wouldn't make it in time. Her was leg stinging with pain. Her chest was constricted and tight. She was going to die. It was with growing apprehension that she realised she was going to die. There would be no dignity in her death. Curled in a pathetic ball, pants damp with her blood and maybe her piss. She had failed. She failed herself and her partner.

Her attacker reached the bottom of the stairs. He stopped.

He drew his foot back, and kicked. Elsa's head banged against the wall. She saw stars. Her chest burned as she tried to suck in air. He continued his assault. A furious barrage of boot met her head. Elsa was struggling to stay conscious. The attacker said something. She couldn't tell what it was. Blood began pouring from Elsa's head. Black spots appeared in her vision. Her only thought was pain. There was hot, molten pain coming from every part of her body. He was kicking her to death. Her limp body took every kick in earnest. For a moment she lost consciousness before being jarred back awake by the thrust of a foot.

She couldn't see anymore. He was torturing her to death.

As he drew his foot back to deliver another kick, he was suddenly shoved from behind by Rapunzel, clutching a cast iron skillet. A large kitchen knife stuck out of her chest. She took a swipe at the attacker's head, sending him dazed and stumbling backwards, before she collapsed atop of Elsa. Rapunzel was wheezing for air. Recovering, the attacker drew his pistol. He gave Rapunzel a swift kick to the head, before pressing the gun to her temple, and firing. He turned his gun on Elsa.

A cacophony of gunfire erupted.

The attacker fell to the floor dead. The front door burst open, rolling Rapunzel's lifeless form off of Elsa. Several figures moved through the door.

"Covering."

"Foyer clear. Trailers! 3 down."

"Trailers moving in."

"She's alive!"

"Elsa! Elsa! Can you hear me?"

The voices echoing through the house became distant and indistinct. Elsa's vision began dimming. She felt herself being lifted onto a stretcher, and soon after the stretcher began to move. An oxygen mask was placed on her face. Something tightened around her leg. Her vision blurred until objects melded into the comforting blanket of darkness.


	2. Constable Bjorgman

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Constable Kristoff Bjorgman responds to a 10-07.

Elsa Arendelle  
Age 18

It was just shy of a decade ago when Elsa lost her father. Her mother had left the family years before, moving to Norway, as far away as she could from her two daughters and ex-husband in Arendelle. Elsa never had a normal family. Since her mother left she was often plagued with loneliness, her natural introversion exacerbated by the loss of a parent. It was just shy of 3 AM when the news came that she had lost another.

Two police officers delivered the news. A blonde policewoman knocked on the door. Her partner, a stout man with thinning grey hair, removed his cap as Elsa opened it. A sign of respect that his partner copied when they entered the house.

"Elsa Arendelle? My name is Detective Constable Saga Noren, Royal Police, Arendelle City Division. This is my partner, Detective Martin Rohde. Is Anna home?"

Elsa could hear Anna padding softly down the stairs.

"Can we come in? We have a personal matter to discuss."

* * *

Cst. Kristoff Bjorgman  
Age 26  
Embedded Canine Unit  
Royal Police, 19 Division  
Arendelle City Region 

"19-02, respond to possible residential break-and-enter, 2800 Hogan Road."

"Copy, 19-02 responding to B&E, 10-11." replied a female voice.

Rounding the corner on Bercy Road, Constable Kristoff Bjorgman couldn't help but wonder what his life would have been like had he not joined the police force. Being a police officer used to be his greatest aspiration. At the age of 18, he enrolled in the National Police College in Arendelle City. After passing a rigorous 24-week training programme, he was immediately assigned to a rural police station in the country's north before transferring back to the city. His entire life had been devoted to becoming a policeman, something that he was increasingly beginning to regret.

"19-04, 10-02 dinner break."

"Dispatch to 19-04, marking you 10-02."

Kristoff thought back to the moment when he realised what he wanted to be. It was an incident in his childhood that made him become a police officer. He spent the majority of it as an orphan. Lost in the bureaucracy of the half-hearted social welfare system, Kristoff was a frequent witness to the travesties that man committed upon man, woman, and child.

* * *

When Kristoff was 10, he saw a man in an alleyway force himself on a prostitute.

It was almost 11 at night. Kristoff had left the vermin-infested motel room that his "caregiver", had rented for the night before leaving him to his own devices. A 20 dollar bill in hand, Kristoff was wandering the streets, looking for a McDonalds, when he stumbled upon the scene. It was a muffled cry that piqued his interest, sounding halfway between a choke and scream.

When he entered the alley, he saw it. Something that looked less like a human, and more like a dying animal, with a long, gaunt body. Its legs were forced over her shoulders, its bony arms were pinned to the ground. When it-she turned her head, revealing her face, Kristoff saw only a chaotic palette of makeup, like a watercolour painting gone wrong. He couldn't remember her face, only the makeup stayed in his mind. That and an awful wail. There was an awful cracked voice that made a terrifying wail.

"HELP! HELP ME!"

It was then that Kristoff paid attention to the man. He was tall, much taller than Kristoff, who despite being tall for his age, was nothing compared to the hulking monster attacking the prostitute. His head snapped in Kristoff's direction. Kristoff was frozen, eyes wide, unable to move. He felt helpless as the giant began stalking towards him. There was the flash of silver under the man's long trenchcoat, then a mass of gunmetal grey. The barrel of a gun was pointed firmly at his head.

For a moment, there was nothing, then a hail of gunfire. The giant collapsed, dead. Kristoff turned to see a uniformed policeman. Kristoff ran. The policeman didn't chase him.

* * *

The man in the alley turned out to be a serial killer. For years he prowled the streets of the city's urban core harvesting his victims, usually prostitutes. Sometimes he would attack his victims on the street, but most of the time he brought them to his farm on the outskirts of the city.

The uniformed policeman was arrested for murder, for reasons that would not become clear to Kristoff until later, but that would not stop Kristoff from pursuing a career in the police force. In the days after the shooting, Kristoff began seeing the uniformed policeman as a hero. He was the one that delivered him from a terrifying nightmare. He was a deliverer of justice, a protector of the weak. Kristoff's faith in the police never wavered. He knew the police's shortcomings, but he thought he could change the force, individually, for the better.

It was only in recent years that the magic was beginning to wear off. Policing was a job that he was starting to grow more and more disillusioned with.

Kristoff unhooked the radio from the centre console.

"19-11 to dispatch, 10-02, dinner."

"Dispatch to 19-11, negative. 19-04 is on dinner. Wait 30 minutes."

Kristoff retrieved his notepad from his vest, and flipped to where he recorded his break. It was about time for him to have dinner. Constable Sandfeld was taking far too long to eat. There was the jingle of a dog collar. Kristoff's police dog, Sven looked at him longingly through his kennel.

"Sorry buddy, we're gonna have to wait."

"That's no fair! We've been waiting for hours!"

"The rules are the rules, Sven..."

Kristoff thought of the killer.

_The rules are the rules._

Suddenly, an alarm sounded over Kristoff's vehicle radio. The display on his personal radio, strapped to his jacket glowed red. Kristoff glanced at the display.
    
    
    OFCR. IN DNGR
    CORONA R.
    19-02
    

Ragged, raspy breathing was sounded over the radios for several seconds, followed by gunfire.

"Dispatch to all units, 10-07, 2800 Hogan Road. Shots fired, officer in danger."

Kristoff activated his sirens and turned onto the opposite side of the road. He began speeding towards the intersection with Hogan Road. Over the radio, officers declared their intentions to rescue a brother-in-arms.

"19-11, mark me 10-11 to 2800 Hogan."

"19-04, show me 10-11."

"19-01, show me responding 10-11 to 2800 Hogan."

"42-05, responding to 10-07, mark me 10-11."

Drawing nearer and nearer to Hogan Road, Kristoff's pulse quickened. Various considerations ran through his mind. The officer, Rapunzel, was probably stabbed. If she had been shot, her vest would have saved her, and she would be returning fire. There was gunfire, but she was stabbed. Was her partner firing at the suspect? Was the suspect firing at her partner? Did the suspect take her gun?

Kristoff stopped out of view at the corner before the house. He made sure to tell dispatch he had arrived. After exiting his vehicle, Kristoff went around the back and opened the trunk. Sven barked, eager for a chase.

"Sorry, Sven. It's too dangerous for you to come. Stay here for now."

Kristoff fetched a plate carrier vest and a semi-automatic rifle. He unclipped his radio from his jacket and clipped it onto the vest before putting the vest over top of his jacket. After fastening some Velcro and tightening some straps, he closed the trunk. Other police officers had pulled up behind him. Noticing that the Sergeant hadn't arrived yet, he took charge of the situation.

"Sandfeld, Taxell, Haddock, on me. Nordgren, Svedberg, Chartier, go with Berrof around the back."

The two teams began carefully approaching the house. Berrof's team split off from the group as they reached the driveway. Kristoff's team kept their rifles, pistols, and shotguns trained on the windows and doors of the house. It was too dark to see what was happening inside. A police SUV, with its red and blue lights still flashing, jumped the curb and pulled up on the snowy driveway of the house. It was the Sergeant, Hans Westergard.

 

_What is he doing?_

A moment later, the blinding floodlights mounted on the red and blue lightbar, known as "takedown" lights, flooded the area with light. Through the windows, a man in a green jacket could be seen. All guns were trained on the suspect. There was an unintelligible shout, then a blur of motion, as Constable Corona appeared, a long knife protruding from her chest. The officers advanced closer to the house. The two disappeared out of view for a moment, then the man in the green jacket reappeared, a gun in hand. There was shouting.

"Drop the weapon!"

"Drop the gun!"

"Show us your hands!"

Then a single gunshot, and a cacophony of gunfire.

Windows shattered, and glass flew. Splinters and debris filled the air, and plumes of gun smoke made a thick haze in front of the officers, who emptied their weapons into the house. Kristoff was the first to reload. The thrum of his heartbeat echoed in his ears. His large palms stung with sweat as he was hit with a cold winter breeze. Kristoff made a conscious effort to control his breathing.

Hans appeared, a rifle in hand. He spoke into his radio.

"19-01 to dispatch, shots fired. Send ambulance."

"Dispatch to 19-01, EMS en-route."

"19-09, we're at the back and covering. Should we breach?"

"19-01 to 19-09, hold until my order."

Hans turned to Kristoff.

"Bjorgman, take point. Stack up and get in there."

Kristoff's team continued their advance onto the house. Reaching the front door, they paused as Kristoff gave it a hefty kick. The door opened a crack, as if there were obstructions behind it. Kristoff gave it another kick, and it opened a more reasonable amount, allowing the team to flood into the foyer. The air was thick with the smell of blood. The officers tracked the crimson slick throughout the foyer.

"Covering."

"Covering stairs."

"19-01 to 19-09, breach now."

"Foyer clear."

"Foyer clear. Trailers! 3 down."

"Kitchen clear."

"Friendlies coming up front."

"Go the other way."

"Berrof, Chartier check upstairs."

"Upstairs clear. One casualty, she's alive."

Kristoff lowered his weapon, and turned to the pair of bodies on the ground. It was then that he noticed there were three. He glanced out through the door, where an ambulance was being held back by newly arrived officers. He spoke into his radio.

"Could we get EMS in here? The foyer is clear for trailers."

"Trailers moving in."

The officers let the ambulance through. Two paramedics stepped out from the ambulance and began unloading a stretcher. Kristoff kneeled and began checking the bodies for signs of life. Rapunzel was obviously dead, a bloodied hole in the side of her head. The man in the green jacket was also dead, perforated by an innumerable amount of bullets. He turned his attention to the remaining casualty. She had a fast and weak pulse. Her platinum blonde hair was caked with blood, and blood flowed freely down her face, painting it bright red. She almost resembled something entirely inhuman. Her piercing blue eyes were fixed into space, unresponsive to any movement. Not a sound came from her mouth. Kristoff froze.

"She's alive!" shouted Hans to the two paramedics, who were now rushing up the driveway with a stretcher. He crouched and began clapping his hands in front of Elsa's face.

"Elsa! Elsa! Can you hear me?"

A paramedic leaned over and checked her pulse.

"She's alive." Kristoff said to the paramedic.

Kristoff, Hans, and the paramedics loaded Elsa onto the stretcher. After applying a tourniquet, the paramedics began wheeling the stretcher outside. Kristoff and Hans followed it out to the ambulance. A second ambulance arrived to deal with the person upstairs. As the paramedics loaded Elsa into an ambulance, Hans turned and spoke to Kristoff.

"Kristoff, I trust that you'll be escorting her to the hospital?"

Kristoff stammered out a response.

"Are you okay, Kristoff?"

"Yeah, yeah. I'm fine, peachy."

Hans examined him for a moment, before speaking into his radio. He turned back to Kristoff.

"Right now you're a subject officer, Kristoff. That means no talking to any officers except for me until you get debriefed by the Police Complaints Commission."

"Yeah, I got it."

"You did good out there. Remember that."

Hans fished his phone out of his vest and dialled a number. Kristoff went back to his SUV. As he sat himself in the drivers seat, Sven gave a concerned whine. His hands and clothes were covered in blood. He was shaking.

"I'm fine, Sven."

Sven did not look convinced.

"I'm fine."

Kristoff sped away from the crime scene, the ambulance in tow.


	3. The Inspector

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kristoff is moved to desk duty following the previous night's officer-involved shooting.

Elsa Arendelle  
Age 18  


There was a deathly silence at the funeral. Nobody dared to utter the name of the person being lowered into the ground. It was as if his name were some sort of curse. Five forbidden syllables that only outsiders dared to say. The only thing that was even more taboo than his name were his titles. No mention was made of his rank of "Detective Inspector."

The pallbearers were all too eager to remove the flag of Arendelle from his casket. Elsa was given the flag. She stood, catatonic, as her father was lowered into the ground. Anna was weeping, clutching the arm of a police officer who was dressed in full ceremonial uniform. Through red eyes, she gave Elsa an almost accusatory glare. Elsa heeded it no attention.

As the casket was lowered into the ground, Elsa threw onto it a handful of dirt. Her snow white gloves were now stained with smudges of dirt. Elsa removed the gloves, and dropped them to her side. As they fell to the ground, she smiled. She was free.

* * *

Cst. Kristoff Bjorgman  
Age 26  
Embedded Canine Unit  
Royal Police, 19 Division  
Arendelle City Region 

"Constable Bjorgman?"

Kristoff roused from his sleep. He found that he was clutching Elsa's hand, his head pressed against the side of Elsa's bed. Quickly, he released her hand, letting it drop to the side of the bed. He realised he had been sitting at Elsa's bedside for several hours now. It was an amount of time far exceeding what he reasoned was acceptable without reporting to Hans. He turned to face the person calling him. She was a middle-aged blonde, with green eyes. Her countenance presented an empty coldness that only years of disillusionment could bring. Shallow wrinkles could be found across her face, and a deep scar ran diagonally across her face from the bottom of her nose to the cleft of her chin on the left side.

"My name is Investigator Saga Noren, Police Complaints Commission, Arendelle City Region. You were present at today's shooting, is that correct?"

"Yeah, I was."

"Have you spoken to any police officers about the shooting?"

"No, I haven't."

"Not even your supervisor?"

"Well, yes. I spoke to my Sergeant, Hans Westergard. He told me I was a subject officer."

"Did you fire your weapon?"

"Yes, I did. I fired my rifle."

Investigator Noren produced a plastic evidence bag with red security tape. She motioned toward's Kristoff's pistol. He unholstered it, removed the magazine, and locked the slide to the rear. A single round ejected, and Kristoff caught it before it fell. He placed the items into the evidence bag, which Noren sealed, and placed inside her jacket pocket.

"I didn't fire that."

"We'll see about that when the ballistics tests come back. Now tell me, what were you doing before you decided to respond to the call."

"I was patrolling Bercy Road. I was driving westbound when I received a 10-07. Constable Rapunzel Corona pressed her panic button."

"What did you do next?"

Kristoff recounted the events of the shooting. As he spoke, Noren questioned details about his story. Every question was made in a cold, almost robotic tone. Her gaze was unwavering, boring holes into the back of Kristoff's head. It made him nervous. There was a knock on the door as he finished. A lanky police officer wearing a plate carrier vest over top of his uniform and normal patrol vest knocked on the door.

"Hi, I was sent here by Sergeant Westergard to relieve Constable Bjorgman."

"And you are...?"

"Constable Hector Haddock, 19 Division."

"Constable Haddock. You are also a subject officer. My name is Investigator Saga Noren, Police Complaints Commission, Arendelle City Region. Wait outside, I'll be speaking to you in a moment."

Investigator Noren turned back to Kristoff.

"I think we're just about done here. As soon as you leave, you are to report back to 19 Division and surrender the rest of the evidence. That means your clothes, your vest, and your rifle."

Kristoff nodded. "Understood."

The investigator glanced at Elsa's hand. There was a conspicuous patch of blood.

"Constable Bjorgman, what is your relationship with Constable Arendelle?"

Kristoff was taken aback.

"Sorry?"

"Are you in a relationship with Constable Arendelle?"

"No! Nothing of the sort."

Noren did not look convinced. Kristoff shifted nervously. The two briefly glanced at Elsa. There was silence.

"It's just..." started Kristoff, quietly. "I...She looks like him."

"Detective Inspector..."

"Yes."

There was a pregnant pause as Investigator Noren considered Kristoff's words before she finally spoke.

"That will be all, Constable Bjorgman. You may go now."

On the way back to the police station, Kristoff bought food for Sven. Kristoff himself bought a hot dog. A television inside the food cart was tuned to a local news station. A large red banner over top of a clip of the Royal Police commissioner speaking read: "Shooting in East End: Female police officer, suspect, dead."

The video switched to a clip of him speaking to Hans. The footage zoomed in to his hands, which were dripping with blood. The food vendor stole a glance at Kristoff's hands, then his plate carrier vest, which was still on, over top of his jacket. The vest was emblazoned with "POLICE" in bright white letters. Those letters were stained by smears of blood.

The vendor opened his mouth as if he wanted to say something, but quickly closed it. This did not go unnoticed by Kristoff, who finished his hot dog and quickly left.

After surrendering his vest, uniform, and rifle to the Police Complaints Commission, Kristoff went home. After setting his keys down on a table beside the door, he went to the bathroom to take a shower. He was silent as pale streaks of red flowed down the drain.

When he was finished, Kristoff shut off the lights and went to bed. Sven was already fast asleep.

* * *

The next day, Kristoff was assigned to booking. He wouldn't be able to do field work until the Police Complaints Commission returned his gear. He spent his day processing suspects and filling out forms. Near the end of his shift, Hector came over to the booking desk.

"Hey Kristoff."

"Hey Hiccup."

"Stuck in cell block, eh?"

"Yeah, I'm stuck doing booking. Sven's been itching for a walk all day, but I can't go anywhere until the end of my shift."

"Well at least you don't have to clean cells. You remember a Thomas Lachance?"

"I booked him this morning, why?"

"He crapped all over the floor."

"Jesus."

"You get any sleep last night?"

"No, not really. I felt rough in the morning."

"I couldn't sleep either. I kept remembering things. Remember how the place smelled when we walked in? How it smelled half coppery and half like piss? Remember how you could see the blood pouring from every orifice of Rapunzel's face? She was dead, but the blood kept coming and..."

"Hiccup, I get it. Enough."

It was then that Kristoff noticed the pained expression on Hector's face. Hector hushed to a whisper.

"They just looked like a pile of bodies. When you see one of your own like that, you get..." Hector paused abruptly.

"You...It's not comfortable."

Kristoff looked at him sympathetically. He struggled to find something to say to Hector, but words were not forthcoming. Thankfully, Hans interrupted.

"Haddock, is cell four clean?"

"Yes, sir. Cell four is clean."

"Good. Take over booking from Bjorgman until the end of your shift. Bjorgman, come with me."

Kristoff followed Hans until they reached the Chief Inspector's office, where the Inspector and Chief Inspector were waiting. Kristoff tensed. Something serious was happening. The Chief Inspector spoke.

"Sergeant, Constable. I'm sure that you've been spoken to by the Police Complaints Commission about yesterday's shooting. From what I know there was a lot of shooting, especially from high-powered firearms."

Kristoff's heart fell into his stomach.

"Preliminary findings from the Police Complaints Commission show that handgun, shotgun, and rifle rounds, presumably of police origin were fired into the residence at 2800 Hogan Road. Many of them, especially rifle rounds penetrated through the walls, windows, and front door of the house."

Hans crossed his arms and gave a knowing glance at him.

"Three people died at the scene. The resident of the dwelling, Signe Larsdottir, a suspected prowler, Klaus Berger, and sadly, a colleague of ours, Constable Rapunzel Corona. Three people received gunshot wounds. Constable Corona, Constable Elsa Arendelle, and the prowler, Klaus Berger. Gentlemen, ballistics tests have come back."

Kristoff braced for bad news.

"None of your rounds hit either Constable Corona or Constable Arendelle."

Kristoff breathed out a sigh of relief. The Chief Inspector chuckled.

"I bet you two got scared witless when you saw the two of us in here. Relax, gentlemen. Constable Bjorgman, I think you'll be glad to know that the majority of the rounds in the perp came from your rifle. The rest were Sergeant Westergard's doing."

The Chief Inspector opened a drawer in his desk. From it, he produced two pairs of rank slips. One was that of a Sergeant. Three bright white chevrons and a small purple and green flag of Arendelle were embroidered onto the rectangle. Underneath the flag was Kristoff's badge number. The other pair of rank slips bore the rank of an Inspector.

"Now for the real reason we've brought you here. Inspector Mikkelson here is transferring to CID. We need someone to fill his shoes. Sergeant Westergard, you'll be promoted to the uniform division Inspector. Constable Bjorgman, you will be promoted to Sergeant. This change is effective in three weeks time."

Kristoff opened his mouth.

"I'm sorry, I can't accept."

All eyes in the room fell on Kristoff.


	4. Detective Inspector

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kristoff refuses a promotion to Sergeant.

Cst. Kristoff Bjorgman  
Age 26  
Embedded Canine Unit  
Royal Police, 19 Division  
Arendelle City Region 

“I don't think I'm the right fit for the position. Management isn't my thing.”

All in the room looked surprised. Hans had the most animated reaction, his mouth opening into a perfect “O”. Unlike a transfer from uniform police duties to CID, there was hardly any grounds for a refusal of a promotion. The work of a Sergeant was distinctly similar to that of a Constable, only with a significant pay rise. It was virtually unheard of for an officer to refuse such an offer.

“Constable Bjorgman, if you don't accept this promotion,” started the Chief Inspector, “Sergeant Westergard can't be promoted either. It's division policy that the Sergeant for a shift is appointed from it.”

The Inspector spoke. “Constable, I'm sure you know that Sergeant is hardly a brass position. Don't be intimidated by the rank. Based on how you handled the Hogan Road incident, I'm sure you'd make a great leader.”

“That was an isolated incident. I only did what I did because I was the first on scene. Any one of us would have done the same. Sergeant Westergard ended up leading the entry team anyway.”

It was Hans' turn to speak. By now his surprise had worn off, and a look of annoyance replaced it. “Kristoff, you're seriously underestimating yourself. You made excellent tactical decisions that day, and-”

“I made decisions that any one of us would. Our shift is short-staffed right now, and in my judgement I don't think we can afford to lose a uniform officer to management. If insist on having someone promoted to Sergeant, I'd ask that you choose Constable Haddock over me.”

“Hector is a pushover. He's scared of his own shadow. I need, the division needs, you to lead the shift.”

“No, Sergeant, I don't think so. Even if that's so, we're short staffed. We can't do this.”

“Kristoff, we are hardly short-staffed. We have a probationer coming in this week, which means we're only down two officers should I be promoted to Inspector. Losing two out of fifty officers in a shift is hardly a problem.”

“Sergeant, Arendelle City doesn't have fifty officers per shift. Moving into management, you of all people should know we're severely under-staffed.”

“Well with my experience as Sergeant, I can tell you that we are not under-staffed.”

“Are we? I do recall Sergeant Eriksson's shift having to fill in for ours today. On a normal day, we need the divisions on the edge of our divisional boundary patrol outside their region. This shift can't afford these promotions.”

“Kristoff, you are stepping out of line. You do not know what the bigger picture is.”

“I know what I see on the ground, and what I see on the ground is not conducive towards your conclusion.”

“I don't know what your problem is, but-”

The Inspector who had been discussing the matter with the Chief Inspector turned to the two and held up a silencing hand.

“Perhaps Constable Bjorgman has a point. This slot has been reserved for Sergeant Westergard since day one, but if his shift is going to have manpower issues, I'd recommend Sergeant Lindberg take my post.”

“Sir, with all due respect-”

“That's absolutely fine, Inspector. I know that some of you might not be happy about this, but if this promotion means any sort of risk to public safety, I think we'll have to reconsider.”

The rank slips bearing the insignia of Inspector disappeared back into the Chief Inspector's desk, followed by the ones bearing the insignia of Sergeant.

“Sorry for taking up so much of your time, gentlemen. Better luck next time, right? Dismissed.”

As Kristoff and Hans left, the Inspector shut the door behind them. As soon as they went around the corner, Hans took fistfuls of Kristoff's shirt, and pushed him against the wall.

“You stupid motherfucker!”

Before Kristoff could respond, Hans released him and huffed towards the Sergeants' office. Kristoff straightened the wrinkles out of his shirt. He returned to the booking area, where Hector was being relieved by the next shift. Hector walked out from behind the booking desk. With him, he brought Sven, who began pawing impatiently at Kristoff's legs.

“You okay, Kristoff? What happened?”

Kristoff scratched the back of his head as he thought of something to say.

“We were getting news about Hogan Road. Everything's okay.”

“That's good,” said Hector. “That's good. Our shift is over, by the way. You coming to Oaken's for some drinks?”

“No, I have some things I have to take care of at home.”

Hector's face lit up. “Oh!” The interjection was uttered with more force than intended. Hector adjusted himself immediately.

“Oh. I mean, yeah, if you have things to take care of at home, go ahead and do it. I might have to call a rain check on it myself.”

After faring goodnight to Hector, Kristoff took Sven home, then drove to the hospital. He flashed his badge at a nurse who led him to Elsa's room, a different room from the one that she was in the day before. A small table by her bed was lined with flowers and cards. Kristoff grabbed a chair, and set it down by Elsa's bedside. He peeked his head out the door to make sure no one was watching before shutting it closed. He drew the blinds. There was a remarkable difference from when the door ajar. All the bustle and chaos of the hospital ceased. Only the intermittent beeps of Elsa's patient monitor punctuated the quiet. For a moment, Kristoff closed his eyes and relished the silence. He took a deep breath, before turning, and moving to the side of Elsa's hospital bed.

He sat down, and observed. Elsa's face was swollen. Two redish-black patches surrounded her eyes. They were swollen shut, and bulging. She was hardly recognisable, save for her platinum-blonde hair, which was still in a braid behind her head. Kristoff's hand hovered over her face. Slowly, it descended until his fingertips just touched the edge of her cheek. The path it took was wobbly, and uncontrolled. His hand was stiff with apprehension. As it made contact with tender, bruised flesh, it relaxed, until it cupped it softly.

Kristoff glanced over his shoulder at the door. A shadow appeared in the window. Kristoff retracted his hand, and the door opened. A nurse entered with a clipboard. Kristoff stood aside as she took readings and performed tests. After a few moments she spoke to Kristoff.

“So I'm guessing you're the brother, is that right?”

Kristoff was flustered. “Um, yeah. Wait, no. No, no, she doesn't have a brother.” The nurse looked at him curiously. Instinctively, he reached for his wallet. He opened it producing a warrant card and a badge.

“I'm sorry, I got a little confused there. Constable Bjorgman, Royal Police. I'm a work colleague.”

“Oh, perfect. You're a police officer. I was going to ask if you left your wallet behind. Since you have your wallet, maybe you could return that one to its owner?” She gestured towards Elsa's bedside table.

“The one on the table. It's been here since this morning.”

Kristoff looked over at the table. A black mass of leather was hidden amongst the cards and flowers.

“I'll look into it.”

As the nurse left, she opened the blinds, exposing the room to the corridor to the corridor once again. Kristoff picked up the wallet and examined it. He recognised the embossed insignia of the Royal Police. It was a badge wallet, similar to his own. Judging by the wear, it was that of a senior officer, perhaps a Chief Inspector, or maybe some sort of detective. He opened it, exposing a near duplicate of Kristoff's own badge. It was a silver roundel enamelled in green and purple, with a gold crocus, in the centre. A crown rested on the top of the roundel, and the words “Arendelle Royal Police” made an arch over top of the crocus. From Constable to the Commissioner, all police officers in Arendelle had a badge like this. The difference between this badge and Kristoff's was in the numbers embossed on a rectangular plate on the bottom. _1840._ At this moment, Kristoff could feel the weight of it.

The badge wallet was an older model. It had a leather flap that hid the warrant card from immediate view. The flap opened from top to bottom. Kristoff peeled it back. “Arendelle” was the first thing Kristoff saw.

“Agdar” soon followed.

The badge wallet slipped out of Kristoff's grasp. It fell to the floor. Kristoff picked it up and placed it back where it was found. He made a hasty exit from the hospital.

On the way back, he stopped at a food cart. It was the same one he used following the shooting on Hogan Road. He bought a hot dog with a side of fries. As he helped himself to a bottle of mustard, Kristoff absent-mindedly gazed at the television mounted on a corner of the food cart. The television was tuned to the ABC News, a television station run by the taxpayer-funded but government-independent Arendelle Broadcasting Corporation. Originally established to disseminate propaganda during the Second World War, the ABC slowly distanced itself from the government until it was able to receive a royal charter that freed it from direct government control. In practice, the corporation's branches usually bent in favour of whichever political party was in power. Many had the impression that the current government was distinctly anti-police.

A clip of Kristoff speaking to Hans, his vest and hands bloodied, played on a loop. A reporter narrated the footage.

“...The Police Complaints Commission says that their investigation is progressing smoothly, and that any wrongdoing on the parts of Constable Arendelle and Constable Corona will be investigated. For the mother of Klaus Berger, it is an anxious wait. She says her son died in a brazen execution. His brother and sister, grieving for their lost sibling say the same...”

Kristoff took a bite into his hot dog. His mouth immediately filled with mustard. _Too much,_ he thought. He got distracted watching the news.

“Thank you Charlotte. To other news now, Arendelle is weeks away from receiving its new Queen...”

As Kristoff returned to his car, he noticed a homeless man shivering in a doorway. He caught himself mouthing the words he would've said if he was on duty.

_You can't stand there._

What he thought in response was no better.

_He's blocking the doorway._

It was then that he decided to approach the man, who donned a grubby grey jacket and tattered grey scarf. He had a dark complexion, and had thick facial hair. Wrinkles ran like furrows across his face. Experience told Kristoff the man was armed. He surmised that the man had a knife, or perhaps even two. The man's right hand hovered over the pocket holding the first, while the hypothetical second was kept out of sight. It surprised Kristoff that the man retreated and cowered rather than tense and posture as he approached. In uniform, hands would quickly disappear out of sight, sidearms would be drawn, and the air would turn acrid with the smell of pepper spray. Kristoff stopped at a distance too close. It felt uncomfortable standing so close to an armed man.

The man averted his gaze and bladed his body away from Kristoff. He lowered his head and tightened inwards. Kristoff spoke.

“Are you okay?”

The man was silent.

“You have a place to stay tonight?”

The man didn't answer.

“There's a shelter down the road. There might still be beds.”

The man shook his head slowly.

Against his better judgement, Kristoff extended his arm forward. In it was about enough money to buy breakfast at a fast food restaurant. Slowly, the shivering man turned, his hands cupped. Kristoff dropped the change into his hands.

“Here, go buy something to eat. Take care of yourself.”

The man returned to his corner in the doorway of a furniture store. Kristoff returned to his car feeling unsatisfied with his charity. He returned home, and fell asleep.

* * *

Anna Arendelle  
Age 3 

The orange glow of street lamps filtered through partially shuttered blinds. Beneath warm covers lay a figure, age three. She was a small, warm ball of life resting peacefully. Her placid countenance betrayed nothing of her vibrant nature when alert and awake. An intruder lifted a corner of the child's bedsheets, taking great care not to awaken her. The intruder was fascinated by the slow rise and fall of Anna's chest. Fascinated by her tiny body. Fascinated by the face that she heard with age would with age resemble her own. She now straddled her. Tender hands ran along the length of Anna's body. The intrusions slipped under her clothes, and made contact with bare skin. Anna roused. Her eyes slowly faded open. She was confused by the unsolicited caresses.

The caresses abruptly stopped.

Then they resumed. Anna was engulfed by the intruder's body. The intruder whispered something reassuring. Then she planted a kiss. It was a kiss on the lips. This confused Anna more, but she knew it would be okay. Anna's face became damp with tears. The intruder clasped her legs around Anna's thigh. Fabric began chafing against her skin. Anna wiped the tears away. They were beginning to sting her eyes. They were not her tears after all.

The after a moment the intruder shuddered, then let out a sob.


	5. Constable Froiland

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elsa's father brings his gun home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This chapter contains scenes of sexual abuse against minors.

Elsa Arendelle  
Age 13 

She was a prisoner, and she knew it—Ensnared in a situation for which she had no means of escape. Elsa Arendelle jumped in her seat as the front door opened, then closed, signifying the early return of her father, Agdar. Almost immediately, Agdar ascended the stairs and went into a closet in the master bedroom. A rapid-fire series of electronic beeps sounded as Agdar dialled in the passcode to an electronic safe. He unholstered his pistol, and made a show of clearing the weapon. He made sure that Elsa saw him as she stood in the doorway of the bedroom, wringing her hands in apprehension. 

She would always look so innocent. Everyday, standing in the doorway, waiting for her father to finish unloading his 9mm service weapon. The routine had become so common that all Agdar had to do was look at her for her to understand what to do next. Everyday she would hope that something would change, that he would one day just tell her that it didn't need to be done. But today was like any other day. He just looked at her and waited. She averted his gaze and left, not needing further instruction.

On her way back to her bedroom, she briefly opened Anna's bedroom door, and locked it. "Dad said not to come out." Anna turned away from her Xbox, allowing her in-game character to be slaughtered by a group of Jackals. "Yeah, whatever." Her gaze lingered on Elsa as she shut the door.

Elsa entered her bedroom. She sat down on her bed. The room was meticulously organized. It was clean. Nothing was out of place. Every shelf was ordered with purpose. Every item was placed with intention. Agdar entered with a camcorder tripod under one arm. With the other he shut the door, and locked it. He unfolded the tripod and attached a camcorder. Elsa sat, stiffly frozen in place.

Agdar pressed his eye to the viewfinder on the camera. He adjusted the zoom so that only Elsa's bed was in focus. The massive queen-sized bed felt empty with Elsa sitting cross-legged on top. Agdar pressed record.

Elsa's breath hitched as Agdar placed a supporting hand on her back, and trailed his right hand from her leg to under the hem of her top. His fingers slipped under her shirt crawled like spiders across her stomach.

She tried to look away, to pretend she was somewhere else, but a hand grabbed her roughly by the back of the neck sending forcing her to look at Agdar. She saw cold blue orbs framed by eyes that looked just like hers. He squeezed her mouth open and forced his tongue into her mouth, pulling hers out with his teeth. The slimy piece of flesh dragged across her tongue.

Agdar withdrew from Elsa's face and pulled her shirt over her head, exposing her breasts. His mouth closed around a nipple as he suckled her. It was humiliating.

"My Elsa, so pretty," Agdar pulled away and unbuckled his belt. Dropping his pants, his hand wrapped around his turgid penis, and began to stroke its length. He pointed his member at Elsa's face. She opened her mouth a little as if to receive it, when it was rammed into her mouth. She gagged as the appendage struck the back of her throat. He began to thrust, sawing his cock in and out of her mouth. Tears welted in her eyes as she suffocated on his cock. The attack was vicious and unending. He finally withdrew his member. Elsa fell into a coughing fit, her skin was flush and her eyes red.

She hardly noticed when Agdar rolled her on her stomach. It was only when he forced himself inside her when she noticed what he was doing. Tearing, splitting pain racked her body, shooting up from her nether-regions like a wildfire. The relentless assault increased in intensity, Agdar's heavy thrusts crushing Elsa's thin body. Finally he withdrew.

Agdar put his clothing back on and retrieved his camera and its tripod. Soon after he was gone, shutting the door behind him. For several moments, Elsa sat, unable to move. Then, she tore several sheets of toilet paper from a roll on her bed wiped herself. The paper came back damp with blood. She pressed a thick wad of the paper to her crotch. She wanted to cry, but she couldn't, so with a blank stare she gazed out the window, the aluminium blinds like the bars of a prison cell.

* * *

Cst. Kristoff Bjorgman  
Age 26  
Embedded Canine Unit  
Royal Police, 19 Division  
Arendelle City Region 

It was two more weeks until the Police Complaints Commission returned his equipment. The same week they cleared him to return to patrol. While Kristoff was restricted to mopping cells and pushing papers, Hans seemed to have his investigation expedited. This was in spite of the fact that he fired one of the fatal shots that killed Klaus Berger. It was perhaps a privilege of rank. After collecting his equipment from a trash-bag sized evidence bag, Kristoff geared up and took a seat at a table in the briefing room. The room was slowly beginning to fill with the shift's officers.

The briefing was all business. Hans made sure to set a professional tone to the meeting. While most in the room were not subject officers in the Hogan Road incident, a sizeable portion were. The coming weeks would be more difficult with Coronation Day on the horizon.

“Property crimes unit has told us that there has been sightings of a prowler in the west of 19, so I recommend you increase your presence on residential streets.” Hans shuffled some papers on his table until he found a manila folder embossed with the Royal Police logo. “Next on the agenda: today's beautiful faces.”

Hans opened the folder and produced a stack of coloured photos. The photos were passed around the room.

“I'm sure some of you recognise a one or two of these faces from last week. If you weren't here in the past little while and were not keeping up to date, this is your chance to get familiar with them.” Hans held up a photo. “The first face is a James Kinslow: An American tourist who missed his connecting flight to Copenhagen and was accidentally let out of the airport. Royal Borders Agency can't find him, they're hoping we can. Next, we have Sofia Medvedeva.” Hans held up a second photo. “Ukrainian immigrant, naturalised just a year ago. Speaks with an accent, and is known to dye her hair black. She's wanted for questioning by Royal Police in Trondeland. 41 Division wants her badly but aren't giving us any specifics. They'll fly down here if we find her. Intel suggests she's inside 19. Keep your eyes peeled.” Hans held up the final photograph. “Last but certainly not least, we have Roger Rapp. Wanted for armed robbery, his weapon of choice: a knife. He is violent. If you see him, assume he is armed. Don't go after him alone!”

Hector pulled out his phone and began taking pictures of his copy of the pictures. It was one of his idiosyncrasies. Everything he did on paper he would redo digitally. It worried Kristoff since sensitive information was being stored on Hector's easily stolen phone. He glanced down at his notepad and examined the notes he had taken through the meeting. It was an almost illegible chicken-scratch. _Terrible._ He thought. Kristoff had always hated note-taking. It was then that he noticed movement in the doorway of the briefing room. Fidgeting hands and nervous feet donning police boots protruded from the entrance. Hans began to speak, and Kristoff scrambled to write it down. He made an effort to write neatly this time. Hans glanced at the door, then gestured for the person in the door to come in.

“Before I assign cars, I would like everyone to meet 19's newest member.”

Distracted, Kristoff looked up, then flinched in his seat. No one noticed, as everyone's attention was directed towards the newcomer.

He saw fiery red hair and piercing blue eyes. A sharp beak-like nose painted itself onto her face even though it wasn't there. Her presence was terrifying. Their gazes met for a moment before Kristoff averted it. He flipped through his notepad, pretending to do something of significance with his notes.

“I'd like you all to meet Anna Froiland. She's a transfer from the Norwegian Police Service.”

“Hi,” the girl said nervously. Her eyes darted around the room. Some gave her smiles or waves. Others gave her blank expressions, too tired or bored to respond.

“If you're feeling a little overwhelmed by this, Anna, it's okay. It'll pass. Berrof and Chartier are transfers from Canada and they learned to fit in pretty quickly.”

The two officers in question gave nods of agreement. One of them spoke.

“You're from Norway so it shouldn't be that hard at all. My biggest challenge was the language, but I got around just fine.”

“Um, thanks. Language shouldn't be such much of a problem, but it's just so weird being in Arendelle—I mean so much has changed. I went to a bakery this morning and they asked me if I wanted flangendorfers! What the heck is a flangendorfer?”

For a few moments, the girl cracked corny jokes and was met with polite chuckles from the back of the room. There was a brief pause, and Kristoff looked back up. His gaze locked with Anna's again. Her features had dramatically changed. Her fiery hair was now a subdued strawberry blonde. Her piercing blue eyes were softer and round, almost friendly. Her imagined nose disappeared, in its place was a cute button nose flanked by low cheek bones and overlaid with a band of freckles. The more Kristoff looked, the more she resembled Elsa, but with rounder eyes, and a rounder face. She had redder hair and peachier skin. Her peachy skin was turning red under Kristoff's scrutinizing gaze.

“...car assignments. Since Constable Bjorgman has taken such a keen interest in our new lady friend, Froiland will join Bjorgman in 19-11. He'll be showing her the ropes.”

Hector spoke. “Sir, Kristoff is a K9 unit.”

“I'll take her!” chimed an officer. There was a short laugh spread across the room. Hans shook his head.

“That won't be necessary, Taxell. Constable Froiland is fine where she is. Back to car assignments: 19-02 is Haddock and Sandfeld, Taxell and Nordgren on 19-03, Chartier and Berrof—19-04, Svedberg rides solo—19-05... ”

When the briefing finished and everyone was leaving, Kristoff approached Hans to complain about the pairing. Hans directed Anna to wait outside.

“It's neither fair on me, nor on Constable Froiland that she spends her time as a probationer standing around while Sven and I do all the work.”

“So I suppose you're some sort of expert in this.”

“Yes, I am an expert in this. I'm a K9 handler.”

Hans' phone buzzed on his table. He snatched it from the table and glanced at it before quickly placing it into a vest pocket. “Constable Froiland is riding with you. That's the end of it.” said Hans as he started for the door.

“Sergeant, it's not reasonable for you to do this! Sergeant!”

Instantly Hans' expression changed from one of mild annoyance to utter menace.

“Listen, _Kristoff_. I can be your best friend or your worst enemy, and right now, you're leaning towards enmity. I suggest you don't piss me off any more than you already have, or an unwanted partner is going to be the least of your worries.”

With that, Hans opened the door and left. Anna peeked into the almost-empty briefing room before entering.

“Soooo...you're a K9 handler.”

* * *

After grabbing his duty bag, Kristoff led Sven towards his vehicle, with Anna in tow.

"So since you were a cop in Norway, I'll assume you know the basics. The laws a little different here than in Norway, so if you have any questions, just ask me."

A trunk lid in front of them opened, and Anna turned, placing her duty bag inside, before slamming the trunk shut.

"Anna, what are you doing? That's a scout car."

"Scout car?"

"Patrol car. Police cruiser. Whatever you call it in Norway, we're not taking it."

An officer unlocked the trunk, and waited for Anna to remove her bag before placing his and his partner's bags inside. Anna quietly apologized, before following Kristoff to his SUV.

"This is our car, 19-11."

Kristoff opened the trunk and placed both his bag inside. He waited for Anna to place her bag inside before closing the trunk. After letting Sven into his kennel in the back, Kristoff seated himself in the driver's seat, while Anna rode shotgun.

"19-11 to dispatch, mark us 10-05, available."

"Dispatch, 19-11, received."

The two were silent as they pulled away from the station.

 


	6. Constable Svedberg

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anna and Kristoff search a car.

Cst. Kristoff Bjorgman  
Age 26  
Embedded Canine Unit  
Royal Police, 19 Division  
Arendelle City Region 

Cst. Anna Froiland  
Age 24  
Royal Police, 19 Division  
Arendelle City Region 

The silence between the two officers persisted as they began their patrol. While other officers were assigned specific beats to patrol, Kristoff, being a K9 handler was given the freedom to patrol wherever he wanted, so long as he remained within 19 Division's boundaries. Kristoff used his freedom to patrol his own points of interest. But today, he felt restricted, with Constable Froiland, Anna, sitting in the passenger seat. He decided to avoid making rounds at those places—they were places that he would rather visit alone.

Anna too felt like she was being watched. Every so often, Kristoff would stare at her as if he was looking for something. She decided that he was doing this because he was evaluating her. She was a probationer after all, in spite of her background. Then there was the more troubling possibility: that he recognised her. She opened her badge wallet. On her warrant card was her surname, in capital letters: "FROILAND." It was her mother's name. She was given her father's name at birth. She caught Kristoff looking at her again.

"It's cool, these badge-things," said Anna. "They don't have these in Norway, we just have the ID card thing."

"You mean the warrant card."

"Yeah, the warrant card. They call it a service certificate in Norway. I like the badge. Just imagine: you're sitting at a cafe on your day off, when you see one of Arendelle's most wanted. Wouldn't it be so cool to just walk up to him and whip your badge out? Be all like 'Freeze! Police!' and arrest him?"

"You know that doesn't happen, right?"

"Yeah, but that would be so cool!"

"Sure."

The vehicle fell back into an awkward silence. All that could be heard was hum of the engine and dull, indistinct radio chatter. Sven stirred in his kennel. Kristoff opened his mouth as if to say something, but quickly closed it. Anna didn't seem to notice. She did notice however, when Kristoff took another glance at her. He held his gaze for more than what Anna was comfortable with.

"Stop staring at me."

"Huh? Uh..."

"You keep looking at me. Why are you looking at me?"

"It's just…" Kristoff considered telling Anna his reason, but decided against it. "I dunno. You're pretty, I guess."

Kristoff looked away. It was a probably a coincidence, but Anna Froiland looked very much like Elsa Arendelle's father. Kristoff gripped the steering wheel. Arendelle was a common surname in this country, but the name Agdar Arendelle was infamous. Its venom only grew when Kristoff met Elsa as a rookie at 19 Division. Kristoff had his own reasons for hating the man. And fearing him.

Kristoff heard his callsign over the radio and pushed the thoughts aside.

"19-05 to 19-11, requesting K9 search of a vehicle at Myradelle and Hogan."

Kristoff unhooked the radio from the console.

"19-11 responding to K9 call at Myradelle and Hogan. Mark us 10-11."

* * *

 

"This is against my rights! You have no right to touch my property!"

"Sit back down or I'll make you sit down!"

When Kristoff and Anna arrived at the scene, they saw an officer arguing with a young Middle-Eastern looking man. The front of the man's jacket was damp. Bits of slush clung to the police officer's jacket. The young man's hands were restrained behind his back

"19-11 to dispatch, mark us 10-12."

"Dispatch to 19-11, showing you on scene."

Kristoff shut off his engine and placed his keys on his belt. He turned to Anna.

"Go find out what happened. I'll start the search."

Kristoff let Sven out of the SUV. He crouched on one knee and pulled a ziplock bag filled with carrot sticks from his vest. Taking a carrot for himself, he gave one to Sven.

"We're doing a search today, buddy. Get ready."

_"I'm always ready."_

Anna meanwhile approached the two men by the curb. Neither of them looked happy.

"Sooo...what happened?"

"Ahmed Attitude here was doing 20 over the limit in his Civic."

"That's bullshit!"

"Shut the fuck up! So I stop this piece of shit, standard Motor Vehicle Act stop, run his plates, and guess what? He's a convicted dealer. Schedule 1, but no markers for violence."

"Fuck you."

"Shut the fuck up and sit back down! So I go to his window and the car smells like-"

"Smells like your sister's juicy-"

The officer didn't let him finish. He gave the man a boot to the stomach, doubling him over. Anna shoved the officer away before he could deliver another searing kick.

"Hey!" yelped the officer, knocked off balance as he was reeling back for a kick. "What the fuck are you doing?!"

"You're a cop! You can't do that!"

"I can do whatever the fuck I want!"

The officer shoved Anna towards Kristoff's vehicle. Kristoff was letting Sven take a sniff through the young man's car. "Kristoff! Get your bitch under control!" He paused.

"What did you just call me?!"

Turning to see what the commotion was about Kristoff could see Anna reeling back a fist, ready to sock the officer in the mouth. The officer was saying something that Kristoff would only remember as something taunting. The young man meanwhile, was standing up, doubled over, walking in circles on the pavement. Kristoff rushed over to the scene, leaving Sven to sniff through the car.

"Hey! HEY!" Kristoff grabbed Anna by the back of her vest just as she released her punch. Her punch harmlessly expended itself in the air. He dragged her back to his vehicle and pinned her against the side. Anna, red with anger, fought to get out of his grip, but in vain. There was fire in her eyes. It was a fearsome look.

"Anna, listen. Anna!"

Kristoff cupped the sides of her face.

"Anna. Calm down."

"Get your hands off of me!" Kristoff let go. He took a step back. "What the fuck is wrong with you?!"

"Anna, I'm sorry, it's just-"

"Runner!"

With his hands cuffed behind his back, the young man began sprinting away from the scene. Kristoff restrained Anna as the officer went after him. The young man failed miserably, tripping face-first onto the pavement. The officer was sure to sneak in a few kicks before lifting him up off the ground. He threw him roughly into the back of his scout car.

"Kristoff, I'm going to report him."

"What?"

"I'm reporting him-to the Police Complaints Commission."

"Don't do it."

"What he's did isn't right. It's not right!"

"Anna, listen. This isn't Norway anymore. This is Arendelle. Things work differently around here. Trust me."

Anna did not look convinced.

"Trust me. I would know. Let's just finish searching the car with Sven and go. Okay?"

It was a moment before Anna answered. She was still fuming. Finally, she spoke.

"Okay."

Kristoff and Sven finished searching the car while Anna stood by watching. The first officer on scene did a through pat-down of the young man. Both searches yielded nothing. The three police officers gathered to share their results.

"Sven didn't find anything. Anna and I did a second run by hand and still, nothing. You find anything on his person?"

"Nothing. Fucking scumbag must've dumped it. I trust you have your... _partner_  sorted out?"

Kristoff spoke before Anna could get the chance. "It's sorted. No trouble from us."

Anna gave the officer a death glare. A smug grin began to spread across his face.

"Good. I'll handle the arrest report. I'll email you a copy of my use of force report so we don't have any misunderstandings."

Anna spoke. "I'll write my own use of force report."

"Anna."

"What?" she snapped.

The officer opened the back of his scout car.

"Taha Farhat, you're under arrest."

"Fuck you."

Anna looked at Kristoff. "What the hell are we arresting him for?"

The officer continued: "I'm arresting you under suspicion of dangerous operation of a motor vehicle, assault of a peace officer, resisting a peace officer, breach of the peace, escape from lawful custody, and uttering threats. Do you understand?"

"Go fuck yourself. Hey blondie, nice bitch."

The officer closed the door.

"He needs a job, not jail," Anna said.

"Shut up rookie. Listen to your man."

Anna lunged, Kristoff caught her before she could throw a punch.

"I guess this is why they made you a K9 officer, Kristoff."

"Go back to your car, Bjarne."

Sven gave Kristoff a concerned look. Kristoff sighed. He slipped him a carrot. The three returned to the SUV.

"What the hell is wrong with you? You spineless prick!"

"Anna, please."

"You see that shit stain assaulting a suspect, and you don't do a goddamn thing. Then, when he's attacking me, you come in..."

"Anna." Kristoff wrapped his hands around Anna's. Her skin was soft.

"...like a fucking hero all mighty and pious and you yank  _me_  away. I don't know why the fuck I even bothered with this shit when-"

"Anna!" Anna looked down at her hand. Instantly, Kristoff let go. "We're cops. We're all on the same team."

"Not when he's assaulting an unarmed handcuffed man! And did you hear what he called me?"

"The suspect had a go at you as well. Look, I'm not saying what he did was right. It's wrong. But you're as far as anyone is concerned rookie. It doesn't matter how many years you spent in Norway walking the beat or doing patrol or whatever, people don't respect you enough. Just let it go. It'll pass."

"People like him don't change."

"I'm trying to protect you."

"I don't need your protection."

"You do. Trust me, you do. I don't have a clue how things worked when you were in Norway, but around here you can't do what you did. It's us versus the world, and you can't survive if your team can't trust you."

Kristoff swivelled the laptop mounted to the centre console towards Anna.

"Here, write your use of force report. You know how the computer systems here work right? Write what you want. Do what you think is best."

"19-05 to 19-11, you mind waiting for the tow truck to impound the car while I bring him back to 19?"

Kristoff unhooked the radio from the console.

"19-11, affirmative."

Anna logged in to the laptop, and began typing. Every so often she would catch Kristoff watching her. It was irritating. By the time the tow truck arrived, Anna seemed to have finished typing her report. Kristoff signed some documents for the driver.

"19-04, respond to argument at Imperial Chinese Restaurant."

"19-04 responding, 10-11."

Anna logged out and rotated the laptop back towards the console. Sven stirred in his kennel, pawing at the side. He was bored. Kristoff muttered something to Sven.

"What was that?"

Kristoff started the engine. "I want to go see if Chartier needs any help at the restaurant. Do you remember our radio protocol?"

Anna nodded. "It's different, but I remember it." She unhooked the radio from the console.

"19-11, mark us 10-11 to Imperial restaurant."

"Dispatch, 19-11, received."

* * *

 

Kristoff and Anna arrived only minutes after Chartier and Berrof. The two Canadians were natural partners. Kristoff let Sven out of the vehicle. It was hardly necessary to have four officers and a K9 attend an argument, but Sven was getting restless. Kristoff decided it would be best if he had a walk. The restaurant was bustling with activity. A deafening roar of overlapping chatter filled their ears. Over top of the noise, middle-aged Chinese women pushed around carts shouting foreign phrases, occasionally stopping to deliver food. Sven became excited by the prospect of food. A couple of faces swivelled in their direction as the trio entered. The diners were watching.

Berrof was speaking in English to a man in a cheap suit. Kristoff presumed he was the manager. Upon spotting Sven, the manager was not pleased.

"Hey! No dog allowed in here!" said the manager in broken Norwegian.

"Et à la cuisine, vous avez quoi, alors?" said Berrof under his breath.

"What?"

"I'll take Sven outside." Kristoff went outside, with Sven reluctantly in tow.

Berrof turned to Anna and explained the situation.

"Mr. Francis Chung here is the manager. Chartier is dealing with the owner, Ms. Mulan Fa, and the disgruntled employee, Mr. Xiaobo Chen in the kitchen. As of today, Chen is fired, the restaurant staff want him out. Unfortunately, Mr. Chen doesn't seem to understand that so-"

The officers' radios crackled with activity. "Berrof, I some need help here!"

Anna and Berrof rushed to the kitchen. There was a resounding crash and a scream as a wave of porcelain dishware smashed into the wall. Sensing trouble, workers began leaving through the back door.

"Diu nei go sei hai!"

"Calm down! Sir, please, cool it down."

As Berrof entered he drew his telescopic baton, and with a swift flick, opened it. He wielded it, ready to strike.

"Get down on the ground! Do it now! Get down!" Berrof repeated himself in English.

"Sir, we're here to help you," said Anna in English.

The Mulan picked a knife up.

"M'am put the knife down."

"Sorry." She put it down. Chen picked up an even larger knife. It was a cleaver and it was raised above his head. He began advancing.

"Ngo jiu zaam sei nei!"

In a flash Chartier had his gun out. Berrof dropped his baton and drew his pistol. The kitchen suddenly felt hotter for everyone inside.

"Drop the knife! Drop it!"

"Drop the fucking knife and get down on the ground!"

"Get down!"

"Drop the knife, now!"

Berrof stepped inside the kitchen to get a better shot. As he did, Chartier spoke over his radio.

"19-04, code 054, knife. Code 054, knife."

"Dispatch to all units attending Imperial Chinese Restaurant, Code 054. Be advised, suspect is armed with a knife."

"19-01, mark me 10-11 to Imperial."

"Dispatch, 19-01, copy."

"Drop the fucking knife!"

"Hey! No need to shout." said Anna to Berrof and Chartier. Chartier looked at her and shook his head. Anna crossed the threshold into the kitchen. She held her hands out, placating.

"We're just here to help you, let's just talk about this," she said in English.

"Diu nei!" replied Chen.

"Put the knife down!"

"Drop the knife!"

There was a blur of motion, then a scream.


	7. Constable Arendelle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anna is left bleeding following an encounter with a knifeman

Cst. Kristoff Bjorgman  
Age 26  
Embedded Canine Unit  
Royal Police, 19 Division  
Arendelle City Region

Cst. Anna Froiland  
Age 24  
Royal Police, 19 Division  
Arendelle City Region

At the manager's request, Kristoff took Sven outside of the restaurant. This did not please Sven, who became resistant to getting back into Kristoff's SUV. He made every effort to delay his eventual confinement. The two of them stood beside Kristoff's vehicle, with one of its rear doors ajar.

" _Oh come on! We've only just got here!"_

"Sorry buddy, but we're guests of the restaurant. We show respect to them, not the other way around." said Kristoff, looking down at his canine partner.

_"Is that what you really think about these people?"_

"Yes. Absolutely."

_"Really?"_

"Yes, now get in the car."

_"I'm hungry."_

"Look, I'll bring something out for you. Something for the three of us. You, me, and Elsa could go to Myradelle Park, you could run around, and the two of us could enjoy hot chocolate. Is that what you want to hear?"

An old woman stared at Kristoff as she walked past the restaurant.

_"You, me, and Anna you mean."_

Kristoff didn't respond.

"19-04, code 054..."

Kristoff had his pistol drawn before the broadcast even finished. The pro-word was solidified in his memory because of what it represented. It was one of few that demanded he draw his firearm.

Code 054: armed suspect. Weapon. Lethal force.

Kristoff slammed the vehicle's rear door and dashed towards the restaurant's front door. He yanked the door open. As he entered there was a female scream.  _Anna._  Sven overtook Kristoff and rushed for the kitchen. Kristoff followed close behind. When Kristoff entered the kitchen, he saw Anna lying stomach-first on the floor.

A meat cleaver lay on the floor, a line of crimson on the edge. A sudden feeling of powerlessness overcame him.

"Anna?!" called Kristoff.

He remembered what Hector said the day after Elsa was attacked. They were a pile of bodies. Elsa, Rapunzel, and the suspect, haemorrhaging together, their blood forming a large pool in the front of the house.

Ms. Fa rested on the wall with a hand over her mouth and a shocked expression. Berrof and Chartier advanced, their guns ready.

"Get the knife."

Berrof kicked the knife away with his foot. The suspect screamed and cursed in his foreign language.

"Nei go sei caai po! Haam ga chaan!"

He was pinned underneath Anna and was thrashing against her grip.

"Ni hao, motherfucker." said Berrof.

"Shut up. Kristoff, give me my cuffs."

Kristoff holstered his pistol and did as he was told. He opened Anna's handcuff pouch, mounted on the back of her belt, and took one of Mr. Chen's arms. He cuffed it. Anna grabbed the other arm, and let Kristoff cuff it as well.

"Diu nei go sei cau hai! Puk gaai!"

Anna got off Mr. Chen and brushed herself off. Berrof put a foot on his back, but Anna kicked it away. Kristoff lifted him up off the floor. Chartier spoke.

"Xiaobo Chen, we're arresting you under suspicion of assault of a peace officer."

Mr. Chen spat in Berrof's face. Berrof cocked his arm back, but stopped short of delivering his punch.

Hans was at the kitchen entrance with a gun in hand. Seeing that the apparent threat was contained, he holstered it. He moved out of the way as Chartier led Ms. Fa out of the kitchen.

"I'll take Mr. Chen back to 19. Berrof, go help Chartier."

Berrof left the kitchen, leaving Anna and Kristoff alone. For a moment they stood not saying a word. Anna began pacing around the kitchen. She was proud of herself, outwitting her colleagues and ending the incident without a hail of bullets. She noticed Kristoff was staring at the wall. It always seemed like Kristoff was staring.

"So how was I? Do I need to work on my groundwork a bit more? They taught me the same thing in Norway as they did here, which I guess is redundant. How would you have done it? Kristoff?"

Kristoff was silent.

"Kristoff? You there? Helloooo?"

"Huh? What?" Kristoff wiped his palms on his vest.

"You kinda zoned out there. Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, Anna. I'm fine."

Kristoff grabbed Anna's wrist. He held out her arm.

"Look, you're cut."

A large ragged gash ran across the sleeve of Anna's dark police jacket.

"Wow, I didn't even notice. That's going to leave a mark."

Kristoff removed Anna's jacket, revealing a bleeding cut on her arm. The sleeve of Anna's dark uniform shirt was sticky and damp with blood. Kristoff took a first aid kit off the wall of the kitchen. He opened it and removed a bandage and a pair of trauma shears.

"Come closer."

Kristoff held Anna's wrist as he cut up the sleeve of her shirt. Her smooth, bare arm revealed itself inch by inch as the shears snipped its way through. As he cut, Kristoff absent-mindedly stroked his thumb along the width of Anna's wrist. Anna looked at her feet. When he finished cutting, he placed a gauze pad over the wound, and pressed firmly. He looked up and was centimetres from her face. Anna moved her head back. After a few moments, Kristoff released her arm and placed held fresh piece of gauze on the wound. He unrolled an elastic bandage and wrapped it around the wound. His free hand dragged up and down the length of her arm.

When he finished, Anna quickly backed away.

"Thanks...I guess. Sucks about my shirt though, I just got it yesterday. Can you believe how much of a pain it is to order gear from headquarters? I don't even think they sent me my whole kit, I'm missing my plate carrier, my short-sleeve shirts, my traffic vest; I did get my traffic jacket though. I guess I'll be wearing that until I get a new parka."

"You're going to need stitches for that." said Kristoff, closing the first aid kit.

"Yeah, probably."

"Lets get back to the car."

* * *

The two left the kitchen, bringing the first aid kit with them. Kristoff handed the kit over to the owner and told her which items had been used. Before they left, Chartier pulled Kristoff aside.

"Hey, I heard from Svedberg about earlier. You need to get a grip on your rookie."

"I'm watching her."

"You better. If she keeps acting the way she does, someone is going to get hurt, and there won't be anyone to cover your ass when that happens. You're not the most popular guy at 19."

"That's not my fault."

"Maybe it isn't. But right now you're in the shit books of half the station, and from what I hear, the sarge now, too. If someone gets hurt because of that girl, you can add me to that list. Watch yourself."

* * *

Kristoff and Anna returned to their vehicle. Kristoff immediately began working on his paperwork, leaving Anna to wait idly. She turned on the vehicle's music radio. It was a vestige of the SUV's civilian origin. Classical music began to play.

"Boring. Is this what you actually listen to, Kristoff?"

"It's Vivaldi. Four Seasons, Winter. They play it on this station whenever there's supposed to be an ad break."

"Why would they do that?"

The music finished. There was a pause before a time signal, then a voice.

"This is ABC Radio One. Now the news with Jon Bjork."

"It's one o'clock. Good afternoon, I'm Jon Bjork. The Police Complaints Commission has announced that it is close to concluding its investigation into the shooting death of Klaus Berger at the hands of Royal Police. The incident earlier this month left two others dead including a Royal Police constable. The announcement has led to outrage as Constable Elsa Arendelle, a subject officer in the shooting, and daughter of disgraced Detective Inspector Agdar Arendelle, was not interviewed by the commission. Charlotte Ericsson reports."

Anna shut the radio off.

The clatter of typing filled the car. Anna was left idle for some time. At first she played a game on her phone. Then she grew bored and browsed some forums. Eventually, she slid her phone back into her vest began twiddling her thumbs.

The typing stopped. Kristoff reached into his vest and retrieved his phone.

"I'm texting Hans to let him know he has health and safety paperwork to sign off on. I'm bringing you to the hospital once I finish."

"No, it's fine. I can go after shift." Anna clutched her bandaged wound, the bandages now soaked with blood. "My arm isn't hurt  _that_  badly."

"That wound looks nasty. I'm bringing you to the hospital."

Kristoff unhooked his radio from the centre console.

"19-11 to dispatch, mark us 10-15. I'm bringing my partner to hospital."

"Dispatch to 19-11, received, marking you out of service."

Kristoff started the engine and pulled out of the fire route.

"So what happened back there in the kitchen?"

"Oh well, well the angry guy, Xiaobo Chen started trashing the kitchen while Nick, that is Constable Berrof, and I were talking to the manager, Francis Chung. So we went in the kitchen and then this massive wave of dishes and stuff came flying into the wall. Chartier was all like 'Calm down, cool it down.' and the angry guy was saying something angry in Mandarin or whatever. Clearly he doesn't speak Norwegian. He was really freaking out, so Berrof came in with his baton slung over his shoulder like he was about to go to town on this guy and he's shouting in English 'Get down! Get on the ground!' and clearly that's not going to work, it's only going to make him angry...well angrier. So I start speaking English too. I'm trying to have a conversation with him, because in Norway we're taught to de-escalate the situation. So then he picks up this meat cleaver and instantly Berrof and Chartier go for their guns."

"You drew your gun too, didn't you?" Kristoff glanced at Anna.

"No, I didn't. The guy had a knife, why would I need a gun? So the guy starts shouting-"

"Wait, you didn't draw your gun?" asked Kristoff, incredulous.

"No, I didn't. Pay attention. So I start trying to negotiate with the subject, build a rapport, let him know I'm there to help him. But Berrof and Chartier can't stop yelling at him, and it's really making him angry. So he starts coming up to us with the knife raised above his head, and that's when I tackled him."

"Weren't you afraid you going to get your head chopped off?"

"Uh, yeah, but who isn't afraid? That's still no reason to shoot the man."

"That's incredibly dangerous, Anna. What if that nutter cut your head off?"

"Excuse me! He's not a nutter, he's a human being. You can't just start dehumanizing people just because they end up a certain way!"

"Anna, listen, you need to protect bystanders, other officers, and victims. You need to protect yourself. You can't do that when your head is rolling around on the floor."

"And I thought the training was similar between all the Nordic countries."

"It's not training, Anna. It's common sense."

Anna looked down and found Kristoff's hand resting on her knee. Kristoff quickly removed it.

"So tell me about Norway."

"Oh, it's not that different from Arendelle. Besides the legal system, the social welfare system, the immigration system, the healthcare system...you know there's a lot more people of colour here in Arendelle than in Norway."

"I meant your career. What was policing like in Norway?"

"Oh you know, the usual 10-hour shift, go patrol, respond to radio calls, write reports."

"Did you have a partner?"

"Yeah, she was a great person. Her name was Inger, really nice, patient person. She was great to be around."

"You have any partners before then, or did you go solo most of the time?"

"No, I've always had Ingrid as my partner."

"What about your training officer?"

"Ingrid was my training officer. I didn't really finish my probationary year before transferring to here from Norway."

Kristoff was astonished.

"Wait, you were a probationer? How did they let you transfer?"

"I dunno. I applied, and I guess they liked me so they let me transfer. Arendelle's bureaucracy doesn't have the best reputation."

"Why did you transfer?"

"I guess...personal reasons. I have family members in the Royal Police. I was born here in Arendelle, Arendelle City actually. It's more a homecoming than anything."

The car grew silent as Kristoff processed Anna's answer. He glanced at her face. The word nepotism popped into his head. Kristoff once held that being a member of the Royal Police was his greatest achievement. But his time in the force had created more disillusionment than pride. Sometimes Kristoff felt as if he was drowning, lost in a sea of chaos that he was helpless to save himself, let alone others from. Perhaps he should have seen it coming. Early in his life he came face to face with a monster wearing the Royal Police badge. But like the dogma of religion, Kristoff never lost faith in the Royal Police. Even now, he still held out hope.

"You're going to learn that the experiences your relatives have here are a whole lot different from the experiences you've had in Norway," Kristoff began. "Things are a lot tougher here. There's more violence, more crime."

Kristoff glanced at Anna. She was quiet, watching traffic roll past at a red light.

"I just don't want to see you getting hurt. Not too long ago a close friend of mine got shot. Her name's Elsa. Constable Arendelle."

Anna tensed.

"Her partner, a probationer, was stabbed. She was Elsa's cousin, Constable Rapunzel Corona. She died. Her holster was empty. She was shot in the head with her own gun."

He took a deep breath.

"Elsa, when she got shot, fell down a flight of stairs. The suspect violently assaulted her."

Kristoff wiped his hands on his vest.

"I was there. There was blood everywhere. You could smell it. There was a big pool of it, and it stuck to my boots, my hands, my vest. I saw Elsa, and there was blood running down her face, and-"

Kristoff's voice caught in his throat. He took a few moments to steady himself.

"Sorry." Kristoff glanced at Anna. Her face was flush and tears were streaming down her face.

"Are you crying, Anna?"

Anna shook her head.

"Did you know Elsa?"

Anna was silent.

"Is Elsa Arendelle your relative?"

Silence.

"Are you related to Agdar Arendelle?"

"You know, you're really touchy with people!" snapped Anna. "Are you like that with everyone you meet?"

"I'm sorry, that was inappropriate."

"What kind of fucking question is 'Are you related to Agdar Arendelle?' What the hell is wrong with you?"

Anna wrenched the door open.

"Don't follow me."

Anna slammed the door and walked into the hospital.


End file.
